On Average
by Acepilot6
Summary: No.15 in the Road series. How many times a week, on average, is typical? Phil and Tommy ask the question...TL, PK. Please R&R.


**On Average  
**Acepilot

AN - No.15 in the "Road" series. Another abandoned fic which I finally went back and finished. It's almost one in the morning and I'm a bit out of it, but I think this came off alright. TL, PK. Enjoy! Just a bit of fun, really.

Disclaimer - RR/AGU and the cast thereof are the property of Nickelodeon/KlaskyCsupo. Peanuts is the creation of Charles M Schulz and the property of the United Feature Syndicate.

---

I answer the phone idly, disinterestedly, killing the sound on the Saturday morning cartoons that I had been guiltily indulging in while my wife is in the shower.

My wife. Huh. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.

"Hello. The Pickles' residence mark two."

"I think that stopped being amusing a few months ago, Tommy."

I grin. Oh, this should be interesting. "Hey Phil. You sound tired. Do I get three guesses?"

"Two."

I kick my feet up, laying down fully and poking my toes through the holes in my dilapidated slippers. Note to self, get new slippers. "You narked her off and she made you sleep on the couch."

"Too much sex isn't your first guess?!"

"Not after three times this month. What did you do this time, Phil?"

I'll give him one thing - he does an innocent voice excellently. "What makes you think _I _did something wrong?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

He sighs very loudly, probably exaggeratedly. With him, I wouldn't be surprised. "We...well, she accused me of having sex on the mind too much."

"Really!? No way! That's just not possible."

"Sarcasm does not become you, Tommy."

"That's beside the point, Philly. You have to admit that your relationship with Kim isn't exactly typical."

"What's that meant to mean?"

"Do you know how many times a week Lil and me have sex?"

There's a noticeable pause. "Tommy, I love you like a brother, and - well, you kind of are my brother - but if you ever mention my sister and sex in the same sentence again, I'm going to have to pretend I don't know you for a while."

Fair enough. "Dodging the question, Phil."

"I dunno. I don't really want to know, but I have this horrible feeling you're going to tell me."

"Four times. On average. Sometimes more."

"Ever less?" His voice sounds astonished at the possibility. I suspected as much.

"Rarely," I tell him.

"So, four times a week is typical?"

"I guess," I respond. "I mean, I only have you to compare notes with."

"You haven't asked Dil?"

"Dil isn't having sex!" I exclaim.

"Oh, yeah," he mutters quickly.

Hang on. Does he know something I don't?

Before I can press that line of questioning, he asks, "How often more?"

I shrug, despite the fact that he can't see me. It's amazing the way we still communicate with body language despite knowing that it's no use. "Oh, every few weeks."

"So, what, you average out to four, with say, five -"

"Six."

"Six every few weeks?"

"Sounds about right." I admit.

He takes a deep breath. "Tommy, you're just as bad as me."

"You and Kimmi must have more sex than that."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me any worse." He clicks his tongue. "Let's pretend, for a moment, that Lil has never been, and never will be, my sister. Your wife has been a complete stranger to me until you married her. Got it?"

"Sure," I offer, curious as to where he's going with this.

"Tell me honestly that you wouldn't enjoy yourself more than four times a week if you could."

"No!" I exclaim, sitting up fully. "No, you've got it all wrong. I don't think about - "

There's a creak as the bathroom door opens, and I look up to see my wife leaning against the doorjamb, long brown hair still wet and sleek, reaching most of the way down her back, wearing nothing but a towel.

She's grinning.

I've got my mouth hanging open.

"What?"

I jump and she giggles. I give the phone a treacherous glare, before raising it back up to my ear. "Pardon?"

"You don't think about...what?" Phil prompted.

"Sex..." I tell him, my eyes drilled to the spot as Lil's grin broadens and the mischievous glint that I've come to know so well takes up residence in her eye, "...all that much," I offer lamely, as she slinks across the room toward me. This is going to be so interesting, and so unforgettable, and make me such a hypocrite...

"Yuh-huh. Sure thing." I can hear the barely restrained laughter in his voice, and I can picture him shaking his head in amusement. "I'll give you a hundred bucks to tell me what's happening on Peanuts right now."

"Charlie Brown's kite is getting eaten by a tree?" I offer, causing Lil's expression to change to one of polite puzzlement.

"Nup. Football gag," Phil says.

"Oh," I return, barely aware that I'm still holding the phone as her index finger traces its way from the bridge of my nose to under my chin, tipping my head up to look straight into her eyes.

"And you and Kimmi accuse me of having sex on the mind too much. I'll tell you what, I'm not sleeping naked five times a week on my own - "

"Five times!" I exclaim, rather ruining the moment. Lil's barely containing gales of laughter, and not helping matters at all.

"See, I told you. You're just as bad as me."

"I am not!" I object, remembering at last what we were talking about before the vision in a towel wandered in and started playing with my hair.

"You are too! I bet you another hundred bucks that Lil just wandered into the room and your capability for coherent thought went out the nearest window."

You can't argue with a man when he's right.

"I can still think coherently," I tell him. "Three plus three is six."

Lil's off the couch, and walking silently toward the middle of the room.

"Deep," Phil compliments me. "Shall we recite our ABCs next? Sesame Street should be on soon."

Lil's standing in the middle of the room, still damp from her shower, grinning wearing nothing but that white towel. My eyes are fixated on her.

"You think about Kimmi sexually way too much," I tell him.

Lil's tugging the fold of her towel.

"Yeah, but you're just as bad as I am," he counters.

I watch the towel float to the floor.

Well, what do you know? "That I am."

Lil glides across the room once more, and I feel my eyes being torn between her and the towel, lying in a miserable heap on the floor.

"It's a guy thing, I guess," Phil says.

"Yeah..."

Lil takes the phone out of my hand, lifts it to her mouth, and says, "Knock our average up to five. Can't afford to be falling behind now, can we?" before hanging it up.

---

hope you all enjoyed that. it was a bit of fun. please review!


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